


Orpheus

by Elizabeth_Dicewielder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Angst, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Music, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, We all know where this is going don't blame me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Dicewielder/pseuds/Elizabeth_Dicewielder
Summary: "Remus is seven years old when his father gives him his lyre.He looks up at Apollo, glowing with all the radiance of the sun itself, and cries tears of joy."
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. The Lyre

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and recorded music on the piano for each chapter and posted them on Tumblr along with this fic. I will add a link for each chapter. Here is the link for chapter 1: https://holy-shit-its-wolfstar.tumblr.com/post/190986466081/chapter-1-the-lyre-rowanisnever-here-it-is-my

Remus is seven years old when his father gives him his lyre. 

He looks up at Apollo, glowing with all the radiance of the sun itself, and cries tears of joy. The lyre is the most beautiful instrument he has ever seen, with a frame of gold and strings of the fibers of the heavens. It shines, and he knows without a doubt that no mortal has ever before been in possession of an instrument so fine. 

The lyre is also very heavy.

He eagerly takes it, and cries out when he drops it, his young arms too weak for the burden. It almost lands on his foot, but Apollo catches it before it can do any harm.

“Careful,” he says. His voice is like a ray of sunshine, warm and comforting.

Remus sits on the nearest rock and takes the lyre once more, careful to rest it on his knee. “Thank you, Father. Thank you.”

Apollo smiles. “Don’t thank me yet.” He sits in the grass and pulls out his own lyre, idly plucking at the strings.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not going to let just anyone teach my son how to play the lyre.”

Remus’ heart soars. Moments with his father have always been few and far between, him being a god and all. But now, his father would teach him, and he would learn from the best of the best. He would be the most attentive student there had ever been.

He would be the finest musician in all of Greece.

~

The crowd before him erupts with applause. His ever-growing group of onlookers whisper to each other, sharing giddy smiles and laughs. Remus smiles his thanks, but the applause doesn’t faze him. It hasn’t meant much to him in a long, long time.

It has been over a decade since his father taught him to play the lyre. The years passed and his skill grew, and soon everyone in Greece knew his name. He would go into town to play in the plaza and people would throw coins at his feet after a few seconds of listening.

His music enchants people, he was quick to learn. They don’t merely enjoy a song, they fall in love with it. They can’t get enough of it.

At first it was exhilarating. He was ten years old, and the entire town would gather to hear him sing and play. His melodies would float from his lyre, drifting through the air and the townsfolk would drink it in like it gave them life. 

A few performances in and it became clear that Remus need not practice. He could improvise his whole set and the audience would love it just the same. He could play the same piece a million times over and no one would notice. They loved his voice and his lyre so much their ears were blinded.

Soon word of his skill spread, and the town became a tourist attraction. Travelers came from all over Greece, all over the world, just to hear his voice once. As a child he loved it. The fame, the money, the way he could make people smile… It was a dream come true. But it became a burden. He could play the worst thing in the world and everyone would love it. He could play the best thing he had ever written, the best thing that had ever been written, and no one would notice. It all sounded the same to them. Beautiful, but all the same.

His performances now mean nothing to him. He sits on the edge of the fountain in the town square and plucks away a harmony to his song, looking out into the audience of smiling faces and feels nothing. They don’t appreciate his skill, not truly. All they hear is the voice of a god and muse’s son. They will never hear anything more.

He looks back at his lyre, though he knows it so well he could play it blind. His fingers dance over the strings as he sings a variation of a tune his mother once sang to him. The chorus of the song starts again and he changes the the chords on the lyre to make the melody sound strange and unfamiliar, an unsettling version of what they had just heard. He uses it to transition to a song he has written, a simple, jovial tune and the audience starts dancing along.

He searches the crowd once more. There must be over a hundred people now, all skipping in time. He slumps a little, though not enough to ruin his posture. They’re all the same. That’s been the problem since the beginning. People hear his music and are enchanted, but they all feel exactly the same way. If one person is dancing, everyone is dancing. If one person cries, they all cry. His music touches people, but he never touches an individual. They’re all the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices someone. A movement. Or, rather, lack thereof. Though everyone else in the crowd is dancing, one person is standing perfectly still, arms folded. It’s almost enough to make Remus stop playing altogether from shock.

The man is at the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall to a local shop. His long black locks fall perfectly around his face, which looks to be crafted by the finest of sculptors. He is the most beautiful person Remus has ever seen. 

Remus finishes the song and concludes his set, bowing graciously. The audience is still clapping even after he leaves the makeshift stage. 

He secures his lyre in his bag and walks towards the man. He’s the only one not clapping.

The man grins. “You must be Remus.”

“Indeed I am.” Remus scans his face, his posture. He’s clearly unimpressed with Remus’ performance, but there’s no malice behind his smile.

“They say you’re the best musician in the world.”

“Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you’re not clapping.”

The man pushes himself off the wall, taking a step towards Remus. “Because you’re not trying.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not trying. Maybe you once did, but you’re not now. Everyone loves whatever you play, so you’ve stopped trying to be good. You just let them hear what they want.”

“How-how can you tell?” Remus should be upset, but he’s just pleasantly surprised. For whatever reason, this man can see through it.

“Whatever spell they’re under just doesn’t work on me. I’m more than just a pretty face.”

Remus smiles. It’s refreshing to hear someone not appreciate his music. “You must be Sirius.”

“Indeed I am.”

“They say you’re the most beautiful dryad in the world.”

Sirius takes another step forward so they’re almost touching. He trails his hand down the strap of Remus’ bag, straightening it out. “Do you agree?”

Remus swallows, heat rising to his face. “Yes.”

Sirius smirks and turns away. “Thought so.”

“Wait!” Remus calls out, before Sirius is too far away to hear his voice. He can’t bear the thought of losing the one person who can see through his act. “Will I see you again?” 

“That depends,” he says, slowing his steps and looking over his shoulder. “Will you start trying?”

~

Remus rests his head on Sirius’ shoulder as he drives the chariot to his—no, their home. They are married. After all the festivities, overseen by Hymen, the god of marriage himself, they are finally married.

Hundreds of people have joined the procession behind them, all bearing gifts from the most skilled craftsmen in the world. The townsfolk are overjoyed to take part in the wedding. Why wouldn’t they be? They are the most famous couple in Greece—the most beautiful face and the most beautiful voice. There will be talk of their wedding for years to come.

Torches light their way home, burning brightly in the night. A few flicker, but most remain steady. The night is perfectly still, not even a hint of a breeze.

Remus takes Sirius’ hand and kisses his knuckles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They pass Hymen, holding his torch high. His fire blazes brighter than any other. The fire of commitment, of love, of a life together.

They pass him, and the fire goes out.


	2. The Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for chapter 2: https://holy-shit-its-wolfstar.tumblr.com/post/610891303905083392/chapter-2-the-snake-part-1-ao3-you-alright

“You alright, Love?”

Remus snaps his head towards Sirius, blinking a few times. He has been staring at the wall for so long it’s difficult to keep his eyes focused. “Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking.”

“Liar.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re lying. I know what your thinking face looks like.” Sirius reaches up and traces the crease in Remus’ brow. “This is your worrying face.”

Remus laughs, though there isn’t much humor in it. “You know me too well.”

“Maybe a little.” Sirius smiles. “But I still can’t read minds. Tell me what you’re worried about.”

“The wedding,” Remus sighs.

“Really? Because I thought it went perfectly.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“The torch,” Sirius concedes.

“Yeah.”

“Again.”

“Yeah.”

Sirius takes Remus’ hands in his own. “I know you’re worried, but it’s been two months, and we’re fine. I really don’t think it meant anything.”

Remus shakes his head, staring at his feet. That’s not how these things work. A god was present at their wedding, and it was his torch that went out. That’s not something to be taken lightly. “You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But…” He looks down at their hands, then back at Remus. “Look at me.”

Remus lifts his head and their eyes meet.

“I love you. More than anything in the world. The only thing that can keep me apart from you is death.”

Remus’ heart pounds in fear. “Don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t tempt fate like that.”

Sirius makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, come on. It was just a torch!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Remus rips his hands from Sirius’ grasp and rubs his temples in an attempt to keep his headache at bay. He can’t remember the last time he got a full night’s rest. “This is the gods we are talking about, Sirius. Nothing is  _ just _ anything. There’s always a deeper meaning behind it. Always.”

“Maybe there wasn’t this time,” Sirius says, voice hushed.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” His heart feels like it’s cracking apart. “I grew up surrounded by gods. There are no coincidences. There are no mistakes.”

Sirius looks at him with sorrow in his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

Remus wants to say it will be alright, that it is nothing, that Sirius was right. But Sirius needs to know just who they’re dealing with. He needs to know what may come. What will come.

“Hymen’s torch went out on our wedding day. That is an omen.”

~

_ I really don’t think it meant anything _ .

Sirius’ words echo in Remus’ head a million times, a cruel reminder of the life he never truly had. The life he has lost.

He is numb. This is shock, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he can think around it, feel around it. Everything is still.

Just as still as the lifeless body on the table before him.

_ He is dead _ , the healer pronounced. That was some time ago. Remus hasn’t moved since.

He is dead. Sirius is dead.

Remus’ eyes shift back to the snake bite on Sirius’ ankle. One bite and he was dead, the venom coursing through his veins and leaving him choking on his own breath. One bite and everything Remus loved was taken away from him.

He does not understand. Every second he expects Sirius to open his eyes, to tell him it wasn’t real and they can live the rest of their lives together, free from worry. Remus blinks, and he expects Sirius to take a breath. To wake up.

He blinks, and nothing happens. He blinks, and Sirius is still dead.

He does not know how long he stands there. No one disturbs him, though the healer returns to light a candle in the tent when the sun sets. Otherwise he is completely and entirely alone.

Waves of grief crash over him, formed in the tempest of his shattered heart. He feels like he is drowning. It’s hard to breathe. It’s been hours, and it’s still so hard to breathe.

He does not know how to say goodbye. He is not ready. But hours have passed, and it is time for him to leave.

He does not know what to say, so he opens his mouth, and he sings.

~

“Father! Father, please!” he shouts up to the sky, voice cracking. He has not sung or spoken a word in days.

Remus stands on the rock he once sat on when his father gave him his lyre. He does not know if his father will come. It has been years since he last saw him. He has to wonder if Apollo even remembers he exists.

“Father!” he cries.

There is still no response. He heaves a sob, chest aching. He has cried so much the past few days he has no tears left, only chest-wracking sobs that send him into a fit of pain.

“Apollo!” he finally demands.

He blinks and when he opens his eyes his father is standing before him.

“Father, please. Please help me.” He trips off the rock and falls to his knees.

“Remus. Your gift is song, and yet you do not sing. Why?” His voice is stern, a stark contrast to the warmth Remus remembers from years ago.

“My love is dead. How can I sing?”

Apollo nods his understanding. When he speaks again his voice no longer carries the sharp edge. “I know the pain you feel. But it will get better. You will find someone else.”

“No,” Remus spits. “There is no one like him. There is no one I will ever love but him.”

“You received Hymen’s warning. His death should come as no surprise. You must learn to live on.”

“I will not sing for another mortal until Sirius is by my side.”

Apollo blinks, the only sign of surprise he shows. “Is that truly how you feel?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “Rise.”

Remus stands, his resolve slowly sinking in. He will not sing again in this world until he is with Sirius.

“You are my son, and thus can enter the Underworld alive once. Only once.” Apollo speaks slowly to ensure Remus understands his every word. “I cannot help you beyond that. You will have to bargain with Hades himself for the life of your husband.”

“Then I will journey to Hades, if that is what it takes.”

Apollo sighs once more. “Good luck.”

With that, the god disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments make my day <3


	3. The Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 with music: https://holy-shit-its-wolfstar.tumblr.com/post/610969537860550656/chapter-3-the-dog-part-1-part-2-ao3-it-has

It has taken days, but finally his journey is nearly complete. He has found the Underworld, traveled across the many rivers, avoided encounters with the wandering spirits, and now here he is, at the gates of Hades.

Four large black pillars with strange bases stand between him and the entrance, but even from here he can feel it—that tremor, in the ground, in the air, that seeps into the bones as a reminder that the living are not welcome. That he should not be here. He ignores it, instead focusing on his surroundings.

The gates are quite similar to the gates of Mount Olympus, or at least what he remembers of them. Apollo brought him once to play for the gods when his training was complete. However, instead of the radiant gold, these gates are an inky black, one darker than he has ever seen, almost like it’s absorbing the light and life from the air. Ornate depictions of Hades and Persephone are woven between the bars, the King and Queen standing hand in hand as carvings of mortal souls cower before them, perfectly mirroring the carvings of the gods relaxing and enjoying themselves in the gates on Olympus.

Remus steps forward, though the thrumming gets stronger the closer he gets. He cannot let it scare him. After all, he is the son of Apollo. For this journey he will survive.

A low growl echoes off the walls and the gates, stopping him in his tracks.

He looks again at the base of one of the pillars, only to realize it’s not a base at all.

It’s a paw.

Pure, undiluted fear shoots down his spine. He looks at the paw, then up, to the leg, then up and up, craning his neck.

Three snarling heads look down on him.

_ Fuck. _

He should have known that Cerberus would be here. That’s what all the legends say: Cerberus guards the gates of Hades to keep any spirits from escaping into the land of the living. Yet he’s been so focused on getting Sirius back that he never even considered it.

He stands there, frozen in fear, as one of Cerberus’ heads lowers itself to his height, the other two snapping their teeth. The head gets close enough for Remus to touch—close enough that it could bite Remus’ head off in an instant. A bead of sweat drips down his neck. 

Cerberus gets ever so slightly closer and sniffs him.

Remus’ heart is hammering, his breathing shallow. He stays as still as possible.

Cerberus raises his head, satisfied with his assessment. He makes eye contact with Remus and growls.

Remus sprints away without a second thought.

His lungs are burning, but he doesn’t care. Cerberus is running after him, the dog’s steps pounding against the dirt, shaking the ground with terrifying force. Remus almost falls over four times, but catches himself against the cliff face beside him.

He comes to a crossroads. To the right, he would continue this path along the river, the path he had taken on his journey here. To his left, a new path—walled in on either side.

He has no time to stop or even think, so he takes the path to his left, hoping to find some way to lose the beast following him.

No such luck. He turns the corner and Cerberus is barreling after him. 

Remus sprints faster. His feet barely touch the ground, forcing him faster than he has ever run before. He scans for any sort of escape, but there’s none to be found. His only path is forward.

He runs faster, faster, trying in vain to put more space between him and Cerberus. 

He comes to a dead end.

Remus looks around frantically for a way out, any way out, but there’s nothing, and Cerberus is getting closer by the second.

With no other options, he pulls out his lyre, hands shaking, and strums a light, sweet melody.

Cerberus slows his pace. 

The dog hesitates.

Then all three heads calm, and soon Cerberus is sitting before him, content. A loud, swooshing sound makes Remus pause, worried what other creature he has encountered, only to realize it’s Cerberus’ tail swishing back and forth.

Remus lets himself breathe, accepting that he’s no longer in mortal peril. He starts to sing along and slowly lets the lyre fade out as his voice takes over. Hesitantly, he puts the instrument away and puts a hand on Cerberus’ side, petting him. The swooshing gets louder.

He smiles, confident that the dog is thoroughly under his spell. “There we go,” he sings. “I’m not so mean now, am I?”

Cerberus rolls onto his back, legs in the air, and pouts at him.

Remus rubs what he can reach of the dog’s belly, and all three heads close their eyes. The tail pounds against the ground.

After a few minutes Remus asks in song, “Could you take me to your king?”

Cerberus rolls over and stands, starting back the way they came. Remus follows, singing all the way.

They pass through the gates and into the realm of Hades. Without the sun, darkness seeps into every corner. Their path is lit by torches with flames like none he has ever seen, a dark blue with hints of purple flickering in and out. 

Despite all he has heard about the Underworld, Remus never fully understood until now how large it is. They walk by forests and fields, rivers and pits filled by screaming souls. There is only one path they have taken, but Remus is very lost. Hours have passed and he has no idea where they are or how close they are to their destination.

Another hour goes by. And another. Remus’ feet groan in pain with each step. Exhaustion creeps up and down his limbs. Still, he sings. He does not care. He will do this a million more days if it means he gets to be with Sirius again.

Another hour passes before they finally come to a halt, prompting him to end his song. Remus looks up.

Before him, in all their magnificence, sit Hades and Persephone, King and Queen of the Underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are love


	4. The Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 with music: https://holy-shit-its-wolfstar.tumblr.com/post/611054531357409280/chapter-4-the-queen-part-1-part-2-part-3-ao3

Remus immediately falls to his knees and bows before the King and Queen, head touching the ground. Something deep inside him trembles in fear. He has met many of the other gods before, but they were all Olympians. And though their power was enough to make any man weak in the knees just from being in the presence, there is something different about Hades and Persephone. Instead of feeling it in the air, he feels their power in his soul. It’s a chill that permeates his bones and binds his spirit, reminding him that someday they will have complete power over him and he will have no choice over when that day is.

“Rise, son of Apollo.” It is not the King like he would have expected, but the Queen that speaks. Her voice is sweet and soothing—wildflowers growing in the surrounding death.

He stands.

Persephone smiles at him and he relaxes a bit. She is a brilliant star in this dark realm, yet only a fool would think her out of place. Her beauty is not that of Aphrodite, the kind that makes the heart stop and the mind weak, but she is beautiful all the same, in a kind, comforting way. Her skin is the color of wet soil, her eyes the color of the grass. Her radiance is that of life, yet she dresses in death. She wears a black dress that drapes far beyond her feet and pools on the ground, with a wide neckline and sleeves that flow just past her elbows. Her wrists are adorned with bracelets of gold and bracelets of bone, and images from legends of heroes long dead are painted across her neck and collarbones. She is the perfect image of the Queen of the dead, complete with a golden crown of spikes, but for the flowers threaded through her many braids.

Hades is just as beautiful, but distinctly not in a comforting way. His skin is ghostly pale and his power floats off him in wisps of darkness. He is every bit as terrifying as the stories say, with the strong jawline and icy eyes, the dark robes with threads of gold that cover all but his hands and his face and the many rings on both hands. His white hair is pulled into a tight braid that hangs down over his left shoulder. He wears the same crown as his queen and sits in the matching throne of stone; the king to her queen, but on equal platforms and with equal power over their domain. 

Despite his cold demeanor, Hades smiles. “Cerberus, who have you brought in today?” The dog runs over to the king and sits with his heads in Hades’ lap, wagging his tail. Hades idly scratches behind the dog’s many ears and looks towards Remus.

Remus clears his throat. “I am Remus, son of Apollo. It’s an honor to be in your presence.”

“Ah, yes, the famed musician.” Hades looks indifferent, but something in his voice tells Remus he is more intrigued than he wants to let on. “Have you come to serenade us?”

He knows he should just answer the question, but he is too shocked. “You’ve heard of me?”

“We’ve heard talk of you,” Persephone says. “It seems even the dead know your name.”

“So it seems,” Hades agrees. “Well, you’re not dead, so why are you here?”

Persephone glares at her husband, then looks back towards Remus and smiles. “You’ll have to excuse him. Manners aren’t exactly his expertise.”

“It’s no trouble,” Remus rushes. He definitely did not want to anger the god of the dead. “I understand the concern. I’m here because—”

“You’re a singer, are you not?” Hades interrupted.

“I am.”

“Then don’t tell us why. Sing it to us. You clearly want something from us, or else you wouldn’t be here. Impress us, and we’ll give it to you.”

Remus nods. “Of course.” He pulls his lyre from its bag and plucks each string individually, ensuring they are all in tune. Given the temperature and pressure changes they should be wildly out of tune, but by some miracle the chord he plays is just as beautiful as it always is.

He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart and steady his hands. He gets one chance at this. If he gets this wrong he will never see Sirius again. The thought alone is enough to steel himself completely.

He takes another breath, and sings. 

His voice fills the cavernous throne room, echoing off the walls and bouncing off the ceiling. Remus has performed all over Greece, but never before has he heard acoustics like this. It means he has to emphasize his consonants even more, lest they get lost in the sound, but it’s a small price to pay. Here even the slightest change in dynamics is pronounced, his vowels sound more pure, and his music surrounds him, grounding him, reminding him of all that he is. He stops thinking about the music and simply becomes it. He does not sing his song, he  _ is _ his song. Music has always been his life, but now his life is music.

His song begins where it all began for him: when his father gave him his lyre. He sings of studying under Apollo, of learning to be the best musician the world has ever seen. He sings of playing for his mother and learning to write lyrics from his mother and his aunts, of how he could impress the muses even at a young age. Slowly Remus starts adding a countermelody with his lyre, a background in his story. He sings of performing, of learning just how much people love his music. He adds a diminuendo, getting softer as he sings of learning that it is not his skill that people care for, but his talent, his magic, and that people have no individual reactions to his music. He uses the lyre to harmonize with him, using a minor key, reminding himself of the misery, the boredom, the utter nothingness he felt.

Then, he sings of meeting Sirius. He sings of their first encounter, a verse that rises above all the others, with crashing chords and sforzandos, so full of soul and joy and love he has to blink back tears. He sings of their courtship, the little moments with Sirius, the laughs, the arguments, the moments he could think of nothing but how in love he was, how in love he still is. He sings of their first kiss, of the first time they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The melody changes. The lyre harmonizes with him, a happy sound, yet not. He sings of their wedding, and how it should have been the best moment in his life and how it was ruined. He sings of the months after. The months that should have been happy, but there was always too much uncertainty, too much fear to truly relax. He sings of trying to find peace anyway. Of trying to forget. He sings of his joy with Sirius and the life they built together.

The song changes once again. He plays one last ringing diminished chord on the lyre before letting it fade out, singing a capella. He lets just his voice engulf him as he sings of Sirius’ death. He sings of how lost he is. His devastation, his sorrow, his torn heart, all poured out into the cavern, ringing all around him. He sings until his voice is raw, until his lungs are crying out for breath too often for him to continue. He sings his last note and listens to it echo around him.

Remus closes his eyes, breathing hard. 

When he opens his eyes he finds that both Hades and Persephone are crying. Persephone reaches over and squeezes her husband’s hand.

Remus doesn’t know how to react. He’s made people cry when singing before, but never any of the gods. He looks down and stands in silence as he puts his lyre away. It’s not fitting for a mortal to look upon a god when they are crying.

“Thank you,” says the Queen.

Remus looks up. Hades does not thank him, but he nods his head with respect.

“It was my honor,” Remus says.

Hades offers him a small smile. “You want your husband back, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question, but Remus nods anyway.

“You have many talents and you have certainly impressed us, but I don’t know if I can fulfill that request.”

Remus’ heart sinks. Maybe coming here was pointless.

“Hades…” Persephone starts.

“He wants me to bring someone back from the dead. There are plenty of rules against that.”

“He’s Apollo’s son. He’s family,” Persephone insists. 

Hades stares at her for a moment, before finally conceding. “Alright. I’ll bring him back.”

Remus smiles, tears falling. He laughs a little. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“On one condition.”

Once again, it is not Hades that speaks, but Persephone, grinning. Hades rolls his eyes.

“You will walk back to the world of the living and your husband will walk behind you along this road.” She waves her hand and another path appears. “Once you reach the end both you and him will live the life together you once had. But I warn you: If you look back at him even once during your journey, he will return here, and you will not be able to enter the Underworld until your death.”

“I understand,” Remus says.

Persephone waves at him. “Good luck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are very appreciated


	5. The Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 with music: https://holy-shit-its-wolfstar.tumblr.com/post/611154768310730752/chapter-5-the-warning-part-1-part-2-part-3-part-4

The road is long.

He doesn’t know what he expected. The journey to Hades wasn’t easy, he has no reason to expect the journey back to be any better, even with a direct path.

At first he doesn’t notice. Persephone gave him a chance. Walk all the way back, and Sirius will return to him. Just don’t look back. 

But when he was told not to look back, he didn’t realize he wouldn’t be able to hear Sirius. He knows that he is walking behind him—he must be, but he hears no footsteps. Not even a breath. 

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t look back. He won’t waste this. Sirius is behind him, just as Persephone said he would be. He just has to trust her. All his life he has been taught to trust the gods. Fear them, but trust them, for they will stay true to their word. It is no hardship to remember that now.

He thinks of the future. He looks forward, for he cannot look back. He ignores the burning of his feet and the utter silence around him, in favor of imagining the life he will have. With Sirius. They have a second chance.

Remus thinks of their house, their friends, all the joys they will share. Singing with each other, dancing with each other, simply living together, free from all the worries they once had. This is the life he wants, the life he has always wanted, and this is the life he will have.

The wind bites at his face. His eyes are strained. He does not know how long he has been walking. 

The next hour passes. The road looks the same as it did before. No change. The same dark, grainy sand below him. The same cliff faces on either side. A distant light in front of him. He does not know how much longer he must walk.

His knees threaten to give out and he wonders if he has gone any distance at all. He saw Persephone’s mischievous smile, the way Hades rolled his eyes. Is it a trap? A game? Is he their puppet? Is this road an endless road that he can never fully travel?

In all his lessons he was told to trust the gods, but to be cautious. The gods must be trusted or one would face their wrath, but it was not wise to trust them blindly. Listen to every word they say. Ask questions about their bargains, know as much as you can. They have their own agendas and they do not care about any mortal.

Does he not know enough? Is he trusting them too easily?

Is Sirius truly walking behind him?

Remus listens. He keeps walking, eyes closed, and listens for the sound of footsteps that are not his own. He listens for a breath, a sigh, fabric shifting, any noise at all.

He hears nothing.

He does not know what to do. He has been walking so long and he cannot trust Persephone’s word blindly any longer.

Remus’ voice is painful and scratchy, but he sings anyway.

_ Are you there behind me? _

_ Are you there at all? _

_ Are you here with me, love? _

_ Can you hear my call? _

It’s a simple melody, a simple rhyme scheme. He has no energy for anything more.

He listens for Sirius to respond. He waits for him to say something, anything.  _ Yes _ or  _ I hear you _ or  _ Come on, we both know you can do better than that. _

There is no response.

He sings it again, voice cracking in too many places. He has no breath to support it.

Still nothing.

His heart is beating too fast, his head feels heavy. There’s a weakness in his limbs. He blinks and for a moment the world is black and he can see nothing. He puts a hand against the cliff face to stabilize himself, slowly waiting for his sight to return.

Once he can see again, he continues walking. He sings, to keep the worry and panic away. It doesn’t matter what he sings, as long as he is singing. So he sings anything and everything. He runs through every song he has ever memorized, then moves on to the ones he can only remember half of. Time seems to move faster this way, with lyrics and melodies from all years of his life fueling him.

Every now and then he calls out to Sirius. Sirius never responds.

Soon his eyes are drooping. He has nothing left but his own determination. No hope. Only willpower. He hopes it will be enough.

He sings more songs. He pulls out his lyre but soon puts it away, too weak to hold it properly. He feels like a child, once again at the mercy of a god. 

More time passes. He does not know how long he has been walking this road. He stops looking, simply closes his eyes and walks. It is all the same, whether he keeps his eyes open or not.

He calls out to Sirius once more. No answer.

His heart plummets, thoughts racing in his mind. Sirius isn’t there. It’s all a trick. Of course it’s a trick—why would the gods be so merciful? What reason could they possibly have?

No. He has to trust. He cannot look behind. He tells himself this, but he cannot shake the thoughts that swear otherwise.

Before he knows it or understands how it could be, he comes to the end of the road. There, right in front of him is the clear line between the land of the dead and the land of the living, where black sand meets green grass and rich soil. 

One more step. One more step and he will be out, and if what Persephone said was true, he would live with Sirius again.

If.

If she lied, if it was all a trick, he would never be able to return and he would never see his love again.

He wants to trust. He knows he should. But every instinct in him is screaming that it’s a trap, a lie. If he looks behind him and finds that Sirius is not there, then there is still hope. He can run to Hades and beg once more.

He calls out to Sirius, singing the tune he sang when they first met. 

He hears nothing.

And so Remus looks back.

He is there. Sirius is there.

Remus starts crying. He is here. Sirius is really here, he is with him, just as beautiful as ever.

“Sirius?”

Sirius clutches his throat. He cannot speak. But he mouths the word over and over again.  _ No. _

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. He doesn’t understand. His mind is thick with exhaustion and it’s hard to remember what has happened.

Then Sirius starts fading. His body slowly turns translucent, shimmering in the light.

Remus remembers the warning. Everything comes back to him in floods. “Sirius? Sirius!” 

It’s too late.

Sirius is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...don't kill me  
> I hope you enjoyed! Comments are love <3


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